An Echo Through Time
by Sinister Temptation
Summary: The origins of the Key are unexpected but give Dawn a distinct advantage when calling for help. Takes place during The Gift. *One-shot with slight cliff-hanger.*


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Doctor Who. I make no profit from this writing.

**WARNING: This is a one-shot story that I have no intention of expanding or, really, completing. Do not read if you can not stand (slight) cliff-hangers!**

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><p>"What do we do, Father Morgan?" The young monk asked the eldest of their temple. His eyes settled nervously on the trembling door; their magics wouldn't keep The Beast out for long. As nervous as the young man was he, like all those who came before him, was willing to die in the service of the Key.<p>

"We do what we must." Father Morgan's voice was soft and calm, holding a wisdom gained from a long and full life. There was sadness at what was sure to be the death of so many promising monks, the death of their entire order, but he held the assurance that they would be well rewarded for their service in what afterlife was to come. "There is but one service left to give. Father Jessen, bring me the book."

There was no need for more orders. All knew of the book and all knew what this meant. Father Jessen scurried from the room and was back a moment later with a large, parchment bound book clutched lovingly to his chest.

Father Morgan took the large book with care and flipped deftly through its brittle pages. "This one, I think."

A circle was formed with their bodies around a glowing globe of light that hung suspended in midair, and the monks hummed and chanted. They ignored the harsh screams from beyond the trembling and splintering door and forced all their magic and life into the spell. They created a body, that of a pretty young girl with long dark hair and full lashes that spread gently upon rosy cheeks, but she was incomplete.

Their chanting grew in pitch and speed as they forced the Key within the body and worked furiously against the presence they could now feel fighting against them. The Key was alive and far more aware than they could ever have guessed, but time was short and they were desperate men. Their desperation gave them strength to overcome the conscious within the glowing orb, to force their will and stolen memories to override this being.

Father Morgan watched as the monks around him dropped from exhaustion, magic gone and life leaving their cooling bodies quickly. He quickly tacked on a clause with the absolute last of his magic. Unsure if it would work or if the entity he had protected all his life was benevolent enough for it to make any difference.

May God forgive because he may have doomed the world.

Father Morgan's body slumped, breath leaving his lungs slowly. He watched through hazy eyes as the new body containing the Key faded before the doors flung open, no magic left to hold them closed, and a tall blonde in a red dress sauntered through the entrance.

"Where's my—," the sounds issuing from her mouth ended in a furious scream as she gazed at the dead monks on the floor. There was not a single one for her to question and no Key in sight.

**)()(**

Dawn shivered in the airy dress that hung from her slim frame. The sounds of fighting drifted up the high tower from where she knew Buffy was fighting to reach her. A glance to her right as the tower shook let her know that her sister wasn't going to win this time; there would be no saving the damsel in distress.

Doc, the demon Spike once took her to in an effort to revive her dead mother, was standing beside her with an unholy glint in his eyes and a rather large knife in his hands. Why couldn't a demon stay dead?

Dawn gasped, tensing as the knife caressed her neck. Was he just going to slit her throat and be done with it? What about the ritual? Her blood wouldn't flow long if she was dead.

"Hush, little dolly. This won't hurt a bit." A long tongue jerked from his mouth and wrapped around Spike's midsection, sending him flying through the air over Doc's head.

"Spike," Dawn screamed unable to help herself. Thankfully, the vampire managed to catch himself with his fingertips clasped through the metal grating.

"I don't smell a soul on you," Doc commented as he gazed down at the vampire. "Why do you care?"

"I made a promise to a lady," Spike whispered with an agonized glance at Dawn. He knows there's no chance of pulling himself up, not with Doc and his snake-like tongue just waiting to knock him off the rickety tower or the knife he's still holding very close to Dawn's fragile human skin.

Doc hums, looking thoughtfully at the vampire. Dawn feels a moment of hope. Was this one of those Disney moments where the bad guy turns good over something sentimental and sappy the good (semi-good) guy does or says? A smirk stretches Doc's lips wide and his tongue flicks over his lips. "I'll be sure to give the lady your regards."

"No," Dawn screams, tugging at the ropes binding her wrists, unheeding of the very sharp knife digging into her through the thin material of the dress.

Doc slams his foot down on Spike's fingers and again when they don't release immediately. Damn persistent vampires. A broken hand fumbles in an attempt to get a grasp on the demon's leg but misses as pain shoots through his other hand.

The last thing Spike sees is Dawn's large blue eyes staring wide and watery into his before he falls. There is pain and then nothing.

**)()(**

Tears leak from Dawn's eyes as she watches Spike fall.

"Hush, hush," Doc placates calmly as he digs a pocket watch from his pocket. "Hmm, we're running a bit behind schedule. I was going to be gentle, but … ah, well."

The knife swishes through the air and Dawn feels pain a thousand times worse than a paper cut. It burns and stings and she can feel the sticky wetness of blood run down her stomach to soak into the fabric of dress and panties. Another swish, more pain, and more blood. Her panties are quickly soaked through with blood and it drips down her legs and over her feet.

It's starting; there is light gathering in midair before her from the blood dripping off her feet, and there is no Buffy in sight. There's no one to save her. The world is going to end and Dawn knows if she is lucky she'll bleed to death.

It's this thought that activates the clause Father Morgan placed with his last breath fearing it may end the world. The monk will never know that if she was slightly less benevolent she could bring about the end of the entire universe not just this measly little world.

Memories force their way forward, breaking through the stolen and altered ones the monks placed within her. The world moves beneath her feet, stars burn behind her eyes, planets die, and entire systems explode into being. It's beautiful and terrible and far too much. The memories, stolen and real, that are Dawn retreat momentarily in an effort to deal with the entirety of this living, breathing universe and the being known only as the Key forges forward.

Key opens her mouth and screams. She screams so loudly and with such pain and anguish that Doc clamps his hands over his ears. The fighting on the ground halts as both good and evil gaze open-mouthed upward at the harsh sound. It takes them a moment to realize that it's not just a scream anymore, maybe never was to begin with.

"DOCTOR!"

**)()(**

The Tardis jerks, alarms buzzing and gears screeching in protest.

"What?" The Doctor runs around the console flipping switches and pressing buttons. "What?" He glances at the read out on the screen while his fingers busy themselves trying to get control of the Tardis. "_What?_"

The Doctor scratches his head. This is dangerous. The Tardis is zooming through the time vortex at top speeds but seems to have little control over where they are going. This isn't anything new; he's always stunned at the places they end up. It's half the fun after so long. Still, they don't just jump into the time vortex willy-nilly!

"DOCTOR!" The shout echoes through the Tardis and almost knocks the Doctor over.

"_What?_" This is impossible. The Doctor knows this voice, but it's impossible to be hearing it right now. This voice has been dead since _before_ the Time War or rather since the time when the war was just tiny skirmishes in the deads of the universe. Now, that time period is locked; no one and nothing is ever getting out. Completely and utterly dead, and he condemned them to live those deaths for all eternity.

Except, that voice …

It's haunting and oh so familiar, hauntingly familiar.

The Doctor jumps from his slump against the railing and scrambles for the console. Excitement is bright in his eyes.

A trick or a truth?

An adventure!

Control is hard to wrestle, back but he's spent years and years fighting the stubbornness of the Tardis; before long he honed in on the call. A steady beep fills the air like an ethereal heartbeat and the course is set to Sunnydale, California, United States in the year 2001.

**Fin**

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><p><strong>PM me if you want to expand on this story.<strong>

** Sinister  
><strong>


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